


Always

by Maygra



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maygra/pseuds/Maygra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Larabee may have a new love in his life, but it's hard to let go of the first one, especially on Valentine's day. </p><p>Originally posted in 2004</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

The house was dark as Vin pulled up, which was odd at best. Chris's truck was in the drive and he pulled up beside it, tripping the motion sensors which set off the porch lights. No movement though, and Vin got out, looking toward the barn. The lights were off there too, save the small photoelectric cell that shed a narrow pool of light over the double doors.

The air was still nippy and chill now that the Jeep's heater was off and Vin pulled out his bag and his jacket making for the house, just as the first few spatters of rain started to hit. They'd been predicting rain all day, but it had held off until now and Vin was just as glad, reaching the porch just as the cold rain started to come down in earnest.

The door was unlocked and he eased in, listening and looking around the gloomy interior. Some brightness broke up the darkness; the light from the over the stove in the kitchen.

His gun case and jacket went down on the bench inside the front door, and he headed toward the kitchen. No sign of Chris yet and he might be asleep, although it was early.

Vin hadn't lingered after the voluntary training seminar. It had a been a good day, and even the lectures and presentations on the new weaponry finding its way into and throughout law enforcement hadn't been overly dull. It would have been worth it just for the demos though. The kitchen smelled warm and there was a lingering hint of something delicious in the air. A quick check in the stove revealed a carefully covered mass of steak strips and potatoes and onions being kept warm. Dinner.

But still no Chris. Out the kitchen's second door and Vin paused, something catching his eyes as the porch light finally went off on its timer.

They rarely used the small dining room, unless it was for case work that needed to be spread over the table. Sometimes they used it if they had the guys over or other friends. The table would seat six -- seven or eight in a pinch if you didn't mind rubbing elbows -- but they kept it pretty spare, dishes put away under the buffet, the table covered. It was just another place for dust to collect Chris said and had talked about converting it to something else, but he didn't really know for what. They had the living room and den and the small third bedroom that had been Adam's room, had been converted into an office, with a sofa bed. The other bedroom they kept for company. The ranch was sprawling, with plenty of room for two men -- just as it had been plenty big for a young growing family.

The dining room, though, that was the one room that Chris had touched very little. The table and sideboard furniture Sarah had picked out: the pictures on the walls, the big antique mirror over the buffet, the hutch, the linens. It was all honeyed oak, gleaming in the dim light from the kitchen, some spill from the outside where the moon was just past full and darting in and out of the rain clouds, the lacy sheer curtains pulled back.

Vin chewed on his lower lip. The table was set with a white tablecloth, edged in lace. A subtly pastel runner had been laid down the center, and two places were set with the good china, down to the extra forks, the two glasses, bread plates and the smaller salad plates set inside the dinner plates. In the center of the table was a vase full of fresh red roses.

Vin stared at it, wondering if they were for him or just a habit. There was an envelope leaning against the vase and he picked up, smiling slightly at the Bronco's tickets he found inside. They were for him, for them. This and the dinner in the oven were for him as well and probably the reason Chris had passed on the seminar. It was Valentine's day and Vin hadn't forgotten either, but he hadn't expected this. He'd bet even Ezra money that if he checked the refrigerator there would be a salad there and rolls ready to be browned, a good bottle of wine. The roses were a bit much but Vin smiled any way, moving in to smell them, then looking at the spread. Candles too, ready to be lit.

His lover was a closet romantic. Vin always knew it, Buck teased him about it, and Chris denied it, but not too strenuously.

But here it was, all ready: a romantic dinner for the two of them, a long weekend since they had Monday off. Dinner was in the oven and Vin wasn't late getting home. If anything he was a little early, so it was unlikely Chris had gotten tired of waiting.

He backed out, moving through the house, pretty sure he knew where to find his lover, just not entirely sure what mood he'd find him in -- but if the dark house were any indication, it wasn't likely to be as up as Chris probably hoped. Had planned for.

It was the den Chris had holed up in. Nothing surprising, nor was the open bottle of Jack Daniels that Chris had apparently taken full advantage of. That was a little unnerving because Chris didn't generally drink alone any more. Oh, he might have a single, but not like this.

Chris was on the sofa, empty glass in his hand, half empty bottle on the floor staring blankly at an equally empty fireplace. The room was dark and starting to chill, the dampness seeping in.

Vin didn't turn the lights on, only crouched before him, taking the empty glass from his hand and setting it on the end table. Chris stirred a little, clutching at the glass before releasing it. He blinked at Vin, although it was hard to tell, the shadows washed out the detail, even to Vin's keen eye.

"How ya doing?" Vin asked quietly when Chris said nothing.

"I…uh…I made dinner."

"Saw that," Vin said with a faint smile, reaching up to take one of Chris' hand in his own. The skin was cold. "Looked real fine. Think maybe you need bed though, yeah?"

Chris was drunk enough to be slow, but he nodded and Vin stood up, pulling Chris up with him. His lover staggered and Vin caught him, whiskey-laden breath warming his cheek. "It's Valentine's day," Chris informed him, as he leaned heavily on Vin.

"Yup." It took some doing to maneuver Chris around the end of the sofa.

"Wanted it to be…" Chris' voice trailed off and he lifted a shaking hand to run through his hair. From the tangled, tousled mess of it, he'd been doing it a lot recently. "Got flowers…"

"Saw them too. They're pretty, Chris. Smell great. You get them for me?"

A little smile curved Chris' lips. "Got 'em…always got 'em. Didn't…didn't even think about it. Habit…" he said and let Vin pulled his arm over his shoulder once they were clear of the sofa.

Yeah, he did. Last year he'd shown up at the office with flowers, picked them up on his way in without thinking about it. They'd ended up on Margerie's desk, Chris murmuring something about thanks from all of Team 7 for all she did for them, and she did do a lot for them. She hadn't questioned it.

It wasn't the flowers though, that had set Chris off. He'd no doubt picked them up when he'd gone grocery shopping earlier, for their dinner. Automatic, maybe, but not what had led to his drinking, or his sitting in the dark with dinner near done and the table set.

"Wanted a nice dinner," he mumbled.

"It will be, Chris. Just need to sleep this off. You drank a lot."

"I know. Didn't mean to…" Chris sounded a little lost, sounded more sober than he actually was if his unsteady steps were any indication. "Waiting for you to get…home."

"I'm home, cowboy," Vin said as they reached the bedroom door. "We both are. Did you get to the horses?"

"Yeah…earlier…when I was cooking the steak. Fed, watered…didn't want you to have to…had dinner waiting."

"It's okay. I'll put dinner up. We'll have it later."

"'kay," Chris said as Vin eased him down on the bed and got his feet up, pulled the comforter over him. Chris settled easily, eyes already closing, curling on his side and relaxing when Vin let his fingers push through the thick silk of his hair. He studied Chris for a moment then went and got water and a couple of aspirin. Chris was already sleeping.

A good thing, Vin thought, because Chris had two kinds of drunk, both rare anymore. One was this, quiet, laced with misery and regret. The other was loud and angry and ugly. Given a choice, Vin almost preferred the latter, if only because the anger he could see building ahead of time. This though, this kind of drunk, seemed to sneak up on him, sneak up on Chris without warning.

Certain Chris wouldn't move for awhile, Vin half closed the door and headed back to the kitchen, finally turning a light on and blinking at the sudden brightness.

He sampled the steak tips as he put them away, covered the salad and rolls, and poured himself a half a glass of the wine Chris had open before corking it and pushing it far back on the counter. Dinner was a sandwich and the wine, eaten at the counter. It was far too early to go to bed and Vin settled for putting on coffee and building up a fire and turning on the stereo. He wasn't really up for TV and he'd been studying brochures and spec sheets all day so reading wasn't on the top of his list either.

He grabbed a cup of coffee and checked on Chris, easing onto the edge of the bed. His presence only elicited an interrupted snore and a snuffle. Lightly, Vin stroked across Chris' back until he settled again, taking a sip of coffee while he studied his partner's face.

 _What set you off, cowboy?_ He didn't get an answer and wasn't expecting one, even from himself. Whatever plans Chris had for the evening, they'd gotten derailed somehow, by something, and most likely without Chris even realizing it.

He left Chris to sleep, wondering if he should clear the dining room, but instead he just moved the flowers to the sideboard and found another tablecloth to carefully cover the settings, keeping the dust off.

The simple gold and white china, with its little back and dark green deco seals at four points looked elegant, like something you'd find in a fancy restaurant. The crystal was cut, the glass thin and delicate looking, ringing with a musical chime when Vin tapped it lightly with a fingernail. Vin wasn't sure he recalled ever seeing it, but then he and Chris, they weren't much for fancy.

But Sarah would have been, even if only on holidays.  He didn't need to open the sideboard to confirm it and he didn't really have to think too hard to figure it out.

The pictures were still there. Vin had seen them, Chris had offered to take them down when Vin moved in, but it hadn't made any sense to Vin then and it still didn't, but he did reach for the dimmer switch, bringing the filigreed chandelier to low life and glancing over at the carefully framed and mounted photographs. High on the long wall were Chris and Sarah's wedding pictures; one of them as a couple and two singles. One was of Sarah looking down at her wedding bouquet and the other was of Chris lighting a candle. He looked too young, so young he was nearly a stranger. Other pictures had been added -- family pictures. One of Adam just after birth. Another with Chris and Sarah, a studio portrait of the new family and a couple more of Adam as he grew up. The last one Buck had told him had been taken about a month before his death. His kindergarten picture. Adam had been a sturdy little boy, with dark hair like his mother but Chris' eyes.

It was a room full of tradition, full of memories. It was the only room, the last room left that bore such a heavy influence of Chris'  life as it had once been, maybe as it had been meant to be.

Or not, Vin thought turning the lights down again. He tried not to think too hard on what Chris had lost, on the horrible circumstances that had left him alone and grieving. Or what fate and whim had brought Vin into the man's life just as he was lifting his head up again, starting to live again. Living enough and past his grief enough to eventually see that barring violence by his own hand, he was going to live on and his wife and son would remain buried.

Maybe his heart too, only it hadn't been entirely and Vin would be grateful for that for the rest of his life. Even with the lights off again, moonlight glimmered through the window, glancing off the chandelier, making the white tablecloth now covering the settings in irregular humps and valleys glow and almost seem to breathe. There were ghosts here, and they weren't Vin's ghosts.

Turning his back on them, he left. He knew now why Chris had drunk himself into a stupor. He was feeling the same urge, and like Chris, he had every intention of giving in to it.

>>>>>>><<<<<<<  

It was the dryness in his mouth and the pressure on his bladder that woke him, and even so, the idea of moving seemed like a bad idea. He got to be right about it when he finally did move. It was either that or piss on himself. He almost knocked over the glass of water on the bedside table, staring at it then picking it up and drinking it even as he made his unsteady way to the bathroom. The sudden bright light made him wince, but at least he didn't miss the toilet. More water helped ease the dryness in his mouth and a swig of mouthwash erased the sour sweet aftertaste of too much whiskey. He got another glass of water and flushed the toilet, then had the half-formed thought that he'd wake Vin.

A glance back told him it wasn't actually a problem. Vin wasn't in the bed and he was still fully dressed. There were two pills on the bedside table and his shoes were set on the floor. The bed was still made. He'd been sleeping on top with the comforter tucked around him.

It took long minutes for the blanks to fill in, for the time on the clock to register. It was just after two in the morning and he'd been…making dinner. Making dinner for Vin for Valentine's day.

And then he started drinking.

He was nowhere near sober, but he was close enough to take the pills, to make it out into the hall. He could hear music, soft and low -- sounding like jazz or something and the flickering light led him forward, past the guest bedroom, past the hall bath and the dining room.

He paused there, seeing the roses set off to the side, the table covered. The pictures shadowed and the room silent and still.

He looked away and kept moving forward.

Vin was on the sofa, the throw from the back of it covering his long frame, jean clad legs and socks sticking out, the gas in the fireplace still burning although the wood had long since turned to ash. The stereo was on low and the empty Jack Daniel's bottle on the floor and the equally empty coffee cup gave him a pretty clear idea of how Vin had spent his evening.

He sat on the coffee table, rubbing at his face. Not what he'd intended, for either of them.  Carefully, he reached out, pulling the blanket back, the angles and planes of Vin's face highlighted by the flames behind him. He started to give Vin a little shake, to wake him and hesitated, wondering if it were fair.

Less fair to leave him sleeping on the couch. He hadn't done that since the earliest days of their acquaintance, and in the past two years, not at all because he'd been in Chris' bed where he belonged or Chris had been in his at the old apartment downtown.

"Vin…" he said his name before he touched him, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. "Vin…wake up," he urged and drunk or not, Vin's eyes opened. He blinked, and shifted and focused.

"Hey," he said finally, voice sounding as hoarse and raspy as Chris' felt.

"Hey," Chris murmured. "Wanna give up the couch for the bed?"

"Uh…" not entirely awake but he pushed up, peeling the blanket back. "Yeah…"

"Okay," Chris said and managed to turn around and turn the gas off.

Nothing to say, really. Vin was moving at half-speed, no more steady than Chris but he managed to peel off his t-shirt as he walked down the hall and Chris followed him. The still-on bathroom light kept them from walking into the walls or the furniture and Vin made it to the bed, shucking off his jeans to leave only his briefs on before sliding under the blankets. Chris waited for him to settle before turning the light off and doing the same.

Vin was on his side, facing him, just enough light from the window for Chris to see some expression, to see the glitter of reflected light in his eyes.

"Table looked real nice," Vin said softly and Chris rolled over to face him.

So Vin had figured it out and that surprised Chris not at all.  "Yeah…sorry about that. I had dinner--"

"I put it up. We can have it tomorrow," Vin said.

"Yeah." Chris thought he should apologize, something. Instead he reached out and let two fingers trace the edge of Vin's jaw. "I do love you, Vin," he said, almost a whisper.

Vin caught his hand. "Know that. Bought flowers, didn't you?" he said and Chris could hear the smile better than he could see it.

"They were on sale. Valentine's day special."

"I figured," Vin said. "Go to sleep, Chris. Ghosts'll be gone come morning."

They would be. And both of them would be a little hung over, the beef tips would be a little dried out, the salad a little limp. They'd eat it anyway. Heat it up and open a bottle of wine and serve it on the good china, on his and Sarah's wedding china.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the darkened ceiling. A moment later, Vin shifted over, moved under Chris's arm and laid his own across Chris' chest.

"Maybe after dinner tomorrow we can go over to the cemetery and take Sarah her roses," Vin said.

Chris' arm tightened around him and he ignored the urge to wipe at his eyes. "Always brought her roses on Valentine's day. Can't seem to break the habit."

Vin was silent for a long moment then he moved, leaning over Chris a little and pressing his lips lightly to Chris' then to his eyelids. "It's a good habit. No need to break it. Not for me. Not for her neither."

Lifting his free hand, Chris caught his neck, pulled him down for a deeper kiss and then let him settle against him once more.

"She don't get the tickets though," Vin added and Chris found himself smiling and then chuckling, Vin holding on and trying to muffle his laughter against Chris' neck.

"No…no. those are definitely for us."

"You'll always love her, Chris. Nothing wrong with that. Her and Adam. That’s a forever and always thing," Vin said.

Pulling his lover tight against him, Chris pressed his lips to the dark hair.  "Us too, Vin. Always."

~end~

 02/14/2004


End file.
